The Hope Within War
by Never-Rebel
Summary: There is always hope, but when it can't be found what will keep the X-Men fighting for mankind, rather than against? Featuring all of our favorite characters... and some of our not-so favorite.
1. The HumanMutant Affairs

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NOTE TO FIRST READERS – The Ororo/Kurt scene has been reworked. Why? So it didn't look like it came right from the movie, and because I watched the cartoon 'Nightcrawler' episode.

Disclaimer – Don't own X-Men. Not the comic, not the cartoon and not the movies. But damn are they good!

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Warning – Thought it would be fair to put out a warning for the youngin's with those tender, virgin ears. Logan curses. And swears. If you're offended by the language the 'Back' button is up and to the left.

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Title – The Hope Within War

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Chapter One – The Human/Mutant Affairs

* * *

"The president is so full of shit," Logan spat.

They all looked to the Professor, who was the only one who appeared calm. The rest of them were angry, and maybe even just a little sad.

"'It was a mutant who attacked me, it was a mutant who tried to wipe out Long Island, it was a mutant who tried make everyone's fucking head explode'…" Logan repeated sarcastically, adding in a word or two of his own.

"I know that the president's decision isn't what we were hoping for -- " the Professor began, but was interrupted by Logan.

"Not what we were _hoping_ for? He thinks we're the ones that sent blue boy to kill him!" he shouted.

Kurt stood away from the group in the Professor's classroom, his tail hanging limply and his head bowed.

"Stryker's files did not include his plans to send Kurt after him, but it wasn't really an assassination atte-"

"Professor," Scott interjected, "you know how serious this is. He knows where to find the mansion."

"We have to get everyone out," said Ororo. "We can't stay here."

"Ororo! This is our home. We can't just leave it. We could go to the lower levels," said Scott, desperate for any alternative that would let them stay in the mansion.

"Or we could kill anyone who tried to come in," Logan growled.

"Please. Everyone," said the Professor sternly, in a tone that told them all to silence.

He sat in his wheelchair behind the desk, papers stacked neatly and pencils all sharpened and inside their coffee mug. The Professor stared at the rich hardwood wall, deep in thought. Logan said nothing, but his jaw was clenched and he began to pace the room angrily. Kurt, isolated in the corner, was murmuring verses from the Bible in his German tongue:

__

"Lord, wie das Ar sie _erhöht__ das __der__Ärger__ mich! viele das Ar sie wie __der__Anstieg__ auf dagegen mich. Viele das sein die in Worten aus mein die Seele, Da ist kein die Hilfe als er in God. Selah._

Ich der Wille nicht sein _ängstlich__ aus __zehn__ aus __tausenderstelle__ aus __die__Leute__, das __haben__ festgesetzt __sich__selbst__ dagegen ich ringsherum gegen. Aufkommen, O Lord; __außer__ ich." *_

"Can it, elf boy," said Logan.

Kurt lowered his head and went silent. The Professor lifted his head then, his gaze refocusing on the group. A frown had settled upon his lips.

"I'm afraid we have no other choice but to get the children out of the mansion. It is no longer safe here. We must get them out immediately," he said.

"But Professor, where will we take them?" Scott asked.

"I," he paused, "don't know."

------

The atmosphere was damp, there wasn't a lot of light and there wasn't much furniture either, but after one day it already seemed like a better home than the mansion. Mystique had disappeared into a computer room – at least he had seen a computer in there – the moment they had arrived at the hideout. Magneto had personally escorted him to a bedroom – if it could be called that – and left him to his own designs. He felt left out, as usual. Out of habit, Pyro flipped his lighter open.

"Hello."

Startled, he almost dropped the item. He hadn't expected any other mutants, but of course there would be others. There had to be others, _lots_ of others, who shared the same opinion Magneto had where humans were concerned. Not everyone believed in the "peaceful coexistence of mutants and mankind" like Professor Xavier, who was just hoping for a happy ending to his fairytale. It was ridiculous to dedicate your life to protecting people who could only hate and fear you.

"Hey," said Pyro.

"I'm Spit," he said.

There was something… odd about him - other than his ponytail of blond hair - but Pyro couldn't figure out what it was. He stood on two legs, presumably had five fingers on each hand under his brown gloves, had dark human eyes; so what was off? Spit strode over to him and held out his hand; Pyro shook it. Up close, he could see what was so odd about this man. His skin looked dry and coarse, like a lizard's skin. 

"I'm Pyro. Where'd you get the name?" he asked.

"I can hawk a loogie fifty feet," he said.

Pyro gave him a sideways glance. "That's a mutant power?"

"Not exactly. If it touches you you're paralyzed for a couple minutes. What about your name?"

"I can play with fire," he smirked.

Spit laughed and asked if he'd seen the news. He hadn't.

"The president has police and military looking for mutants, wants us locked up and thrown in prison for the rest of our lives. They've already arrested some of the people who still had their names on file from the mutant registration policy. They beat them first, even when they didn't put up a fight or anything, just because they're afraid of us," Spit explained sourly.

"They should be."

"Come look at this, man," he said, leading Pyro through a wide corridor into a large room that he could have called a living room in a normal house. 

There were several others in the room, sitting on solid gray couches and chairs around a small television. He acted as if he didn't notice that some of them were hideously inhuman because, as a fellow mutant, he shouldn't gawk at them like other, normal people did. Pyro sat down on his knees in front of the television as the anchorwoman rattled on about the president's speech earlier in the day. Eventually footage from one of the arrests was replayed: a heavyset woman was trying to defend herself. As he watched, he saw that if she stomped the policemen would lose their balance and fall; if she clobbered them they would fly back a good fifteen feet. But then one of the men shot her, once in the leg and again in the chest. They swarmed around her like flies to a fresh pile of dung, beating her with their nightsticks until she was unconscious, probably close to death. Finally they rolled her over and handcuffed her.

"It seems the president has finally acknowledged that there is a war going on," said Magneto, sweeping into the room, "and now it is our move again. Come now, everyone is gathering in the other room. We must plot are next move carefully."

Pyro rose and caught up to Spit, leaned over and asked, "How many people are here?"

"Here?" he repeated. "About twenty or so, I guess, but Magneto has more allies all over the country."

"So this is going to be huge fucking war, isn't it?"

Spit nodded. 

------

When night came everyone was jumpy, expecting the locked doors to bust open, waiting for the windows to suddenly shatter and for boots to come trudging in on the wooden floor. The students had faced those men before – and they didn't want to see their guns again. They had been informed of their predicament and a tiny number of them had already packed their things and gone back to their families; those who still had a family left, that is. Others made suggestions of staying at a hotel which, the Professor admitted, would solve their problem temporarily. But those like Kurt, the ones whose mutation had altered their appearance beyond human looking, couldn't hope to stay in a hotel full of people, so he had offered to take those children with him to Boston. The church was large and had a few beds that they could share. 

The Professor decided it would be best if they all went to Boston; they would feel safer if they were all together. Ororo offered to go as a chaperone; Logan begrudgingly agreed to go when he was asked; Scott refused to the leave the mansion; and the Professor could not leave it. The students were asked to pack their belongings – and not to leave anything behind that they held dear – and to get a good night's rest. They planned to leave in the morning. Logan and Scott were assigned guard duty, in case the mansion was stormed. A few of the students remained awake, restless and fearful.

Ororo was also still awake, in her bedroom, staring at her empty suitcase. She didn't feel like packing, she didn't want to leave, even though she had suggested it. No one did. They were being run out of their home… and it wasn't fair. She didn't fear people enough to run them out of _their_ homes, so why did they have to do this to them? They weren't that different, but that small voice in the back of her mind said that they were and she couldn't shake it away.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," said Ororo, hurrying off of her bed and to the dresser.

Kurt opened the door and she forced herself to smile as she pulled open the first drawer and pulled out some of the clothes in it.

"I just vanted to see if you needed any help packing," he said.

"No, I don't have much, but thank you."

He nodded and Ororo felt obligated to say something.

"It was very kind of you to offer to let the children stay with you in your home," she said.

"I just vant to help, but its really not much zhere," said Kurt.

More uncomfortable silence fell upon them, both searching for something to say. Finally Kurt turned to leave and she was glad to be rid of the awkwardness, but at the same time she didn't want him to go.

"Do you," she started and then paused when she realized how callous her question seemed in her mind: _… hate them for this?_ She quickly found a different question and asked, "Don't you ever get mad at them?"

"At who?" he asked innocently, his fingers in the doorknob.

"People."

"I used to, but zhen I found God. People are afraid of me, _Fräulein _Storm. In old country zhey thought I vas a demon, zhey called me zhe devil, but zhey did not understand," he said.

Ororo started to say something, but he held up a three-fingered hand to quiet her. 

"No, do not say anything to zhat. I do not blame zhem for zheir fear. Besides, I consider it flattery. Zhe devil vas, after all, an angel," said Kurt, smiling.

Ororo smiled sadly. She didn't understand him or how he could put so much faith in God. 

"Good night, _Fräulein_ Storm. _Ich werde beten fürdich,_" he said and left.

It dawned on her suddenly that Kurt didn't put his faith in mankind, that they would one day live together in peace and harmony with them. He knew, just like they all did, that people would always fear mutants – and that that wouldn't change in their lifetime. Maybe if she had believed in God she could have shared his tolerance for mankind. But she couldn't. She had tried fearing them; and now she was only angry with them. It was _their_ fault that they were being forced from the mansion. 

She hated people.

------

"Alright gentlemen, the game is five card. Jacks or better to open."

The dealer dealt out the cards to the other five men seated at the round table, the hanging lamp above them providing little illumination. There were two crap tables set up, the latest shooters getting egged on by a gathered crowd; another pair of roulette tables; and several poker tables. Each man picked up their cards, made their bets, got their new cards; Remy peered over his sunglasses and watched one of the men drop his hand onto the table, positioned to tap his nails – he could tell that man had a good hand. They all threw in more chips, called the bet, raised it, then finally let it be with a hearty sum in the middle. 

The man across from Remy smiled and laid down his hand: three tens, two kings: a full house. When Remy didn't move to show his hand, the man started to collect the money from the pot. 

"Hold on dere a second. I got a pair here," he said.

"Well that don't beat a full house, kid," said the man.

Remy was the youngest player at the table and was quite proud to be. He kept his face straight as he laid his cards down.

"Pair o' red fours an' a pair o' black fours, _mon ami_," he said.

"You cheating rascal!" The man roared.

He stalked around the table towards Remy, who had his arms held up in a peaceful gesture saying he had won the pot fair and square, but the man wasn't listening. He threw a punch at Remy, who ducked and backed away, not wanting any trouble. The man flipped over the card table in his rage and picked up a chair; he hurled it at him and Remy moved out of the way, watching it clatter against the wall. Then the man jumped onto him and they both fell backward and _thumped_ onto the ground. He snatched up one of the cards that had floated onto the ground and concentrated, hoping this would work. It began to glow a shimmering white, then he tossed it into the man's face; it exploded and he screamed in agony. Remy scooted away and scrambled onto his feet, looking at the men. The others were staring at him; his glasses had fallen off.

Before any of them could move, he fled through the door, his overcoat flapping behind him through the front restaurant and out the single door. He hopped over the door of his convertible and into the driver's seat, started it up and screeched out of the parking lot. He half expected someone to come running out after him and give chase, but no one did; and three miles down a back road he was glad no one had followed him because his car had run out of gas. Remy swore under his breather, got out and slammed the door shut; shuffled angrily down the road with his hands stuffed into his large pockets; pulled out a deck of cards from an inside pocket to keep him occupied; then stopped. 

There was a mansion a ways up the road that he had seen many times before, but had never paid much attention to. Now he was glad it was there. He power-walked to the gates and glanced at the sign on the wall:

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Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters

School? Well, even schools had phones – and there were lights on inside so someone was obviously there. He tucked his cards away and looked for an intercom, but there was none. He stepped on something and realized that he was standing on a trip wire, which had to have enough pressure on it to open the gates. He jumped on it twice and the gates opened for him. He headed up the path to the mansion and before he even made it to the door there was someone stalking out to greet him. A small, furry-looking man, who didn't look all too welcoming. Remy tried to keep his head low to hide his red-on-black eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"Remy," he replied smoothly. "You have a phone I could use, _mon ami_?"

"No. Now leave," the furry-looking man snarled.

"C'mon now, I was jus' askin' to --"

"Logan," another man called. This one had on a pair of sunglasses despite it being late into the night. "Stop it. Remy was it?"

"Remy LeBeau," he said pleasantly.

"Scott Summers. Please, come in and I'll show you to a phone," he said, looking pointedly at Logan.

Logan glared at both of them and followed behind, watching the stranger intently, "One wrong move, bub…" He stopped and let the threat hang.

"What up wit' him?" Remy whispered.

"His time of month. Every day," Scott whispered back. 

"Can it, pretty boy," Logan said, shoving through them and stepping on Remy's foot.

"'Ey! Didn' da zoo teach you any manners?" he demanded.

Logan turned, walked back and socked Remy straight in the jaw, sending him to the ground. In an instant he had flipped back onto his feet with a card absent-mindedly pulled out of his pocket, charged and ready to fly. He flung the card at Logan, who put his arm up to block it. The card burst against his skin, leaving it scalded and raw. Scott stepped between them, alternating between gaping and glaring. 

"You're a mutant," Scott observed.

Remy stayed where he was, refusing to run. He touched his jaw lightly – he would have a bruise tomorrow and he didn't like that his pretty face would be marred. Then he looked up at Logan, whose arm was… healing itself. His flesh crawled over the pink skin, sealed itself and was once again unscarred.

"An' he a mutant too?" Remy asked.

"Yes," said Scott. "Do you still want to use the phone?"

Remy nodded, then asked, "What kind o' school is dis?"

Scott was about to answer, but he stopped himself, deciding that he would let the Professor tell him. This kid couldn't have been older than twenty, sixteen at the youngest, young enough to attend school. Normally they would have been happy to take him in as a student, but times were starting to get tough – and they would be leaving in just a few hours. 

------

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Author's Note – I need a beta-reader. Preferably someone who knows English well enough. ^_^

Everyone was disappointed that Gambit wasn't in X-Men 2. *sniffles* Now, concerning his accent… I had to keep in mind that there could be some people who have never heard the Cajun's voice, and I wanted them to be able to pick up the gist of his accent. (That and I've read too many comics and seen how to write it.) Nightcrawler's accent is kept simple, only the heaviest of it slipping into his dialogue.

Oh, I'll always translate German (or French, if that be the case)… because I really don't know the language either, I just have access to handy dictionaries.

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Thank You's To – Well, I don't really have anyone to thank yet… Except my soon-to-be reviewers. *hint hint* ;)

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Planned Update – Busy with school, and another story, and another story, and another… and yeah. Whenever.

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*"Lord, how are they increased that trouble me! many are they that rise up against me. Many there be which say of my soul, There is no help for him in God. Selah. – Psalms 3:1

I will not be afraid of tens of thousands of people, that have set themselves against me round about. Arise, O Lord; save me." – Psalms 3:6

And other small German phrases:

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Fräulein – Miss (In the 'Nightcrawler' episode, he was always referring to Wolverine as '_Herr _Logan', which means Mister Logan of course)

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Ich werde beten fürdich – I will pray for you.

And Gambit's French phrase (for those who took Spanish rather than French):

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Mon ami – my friend


	2. PP: Plans and Problems

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Title – The Hope Within War

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Author – Toreina-Mei a.k.a. Jenna

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Chapter Two – P.P.: Plans and Problems

* * *

A beige folder _plopped_ down onto the table, a couple photographs and documents slipping out of it. Pyro lifted his head to get a better look at it, but it was too blurry from a distance. He could only make out two people, one in a white lab coat and another in a hideous suit. Mystique held up a picture of a man with strawberry blond hair and big square glasses.

"This is Henry Girik, the man in charge of Federal Security, and now the Mutant Registration Agency too." She held up another picture of a man with gray hair and a small moustache. "And this is Dr. Trask. Pass around the folder and the pictures, get a good look at them."

"What's so special about them?" one man asked.

"They have been trying to officially start a mutant program for years now, which the president just finally approved. Girik is trying to protect mankind from mutants, either by controlling us or killing us. Whatever appeals to him," she sneered.

"I think we made an impression on them, my dear," said Magneto.

Mystique half-smiled and continued, "They have started building something called a 'Sentinal'. Actually, Dr. Trask has already built it and wants to build more, Girik is only funding the program."

"I've heard of Trask. He was in line to win the Nobel prize in chemistry, but then he won it for physics. He built the Sentinal thing to use as a military weapon, but the government wouldn't give him all the money he needed so he dropped the project," said one of the men.

"Sounds like a bad video game," Pyro said dully.

"Oh, I'm afraid not, my boy," said Magneto, deathly serious, "this is far worse than one of your silly video games. They already have a prototype that's been tested by the military, that they know works. Now all they have to do is test it against mutants, against us."

What _was_ his deal with giving speeches? Pyro wondered. 

Mystique held up a final photo that had been printed off of the computer.

"This is a Sentinal. If you look closely you'll see a small figure at the bottom standing in front of it. That's Dr. Trask. Not only is this thing big, but it has several built-in weapons, probably guns and small rockets, but I don't know for sure-"

"Something that big'll never move!" said Spit.

"Dr. Trask specializes in mechanics and robotics, it's been tested, so we know it can move," said Magneto, "but whether or not it will work has yet to be seen."

"And if it does work?" Pyro asked. _Whatever it's supposed to do._

"Then we'll see what Mystique has to tell us about it when she returns."

--

There was a phone on a small round table near the front doors that Remy could use, an older one that didn't have any special features, not even a redial button. Scott had left, but the other furry man remained, propped against the wall and staring at him intently as if he were going to blow up the mansion with a simple touch. 

"You got a problem?" Remy asked as he picked up the phone.

"Yeah, you're taking too long to get out." 

The phone in Remy's hand grew bright and exploded. He jumped slightly in surprise and groaned when he realized what he had done – and seen that he had ruined his glove. A few broken bits pelted his chest, a few knocked under his chin, and clattered onto the floor. Then suddenly he was shoved against the wall, his coat collar held tightly, with three metal claws in front of his nose.

"Logan!"

The Professor rolled into the room in his wheelchair, Scott behind him. He dropped Remy, who pulled away and put on a show of fixing his duster.

"I'm sorry 'bout 'da phone, uh…"

"Xavier. Professor Charles Xavier. And it's quite all right," he said. His blue eyes stared at him, _right_ into him. "Scott, show the young man to the garage. Your car needs gas, correct?"

"Uh… _oui_. How you know dat, _monsieur_?" 

The Professor smiled. "We all have our own special gifts."

"You tryin' to tell Remy you can read his mind?" he chuckled, thinking it a joke.

"Yes, and I hope you will excuse my intrusion, but this is a rather difficult time for us now. We are all a bit weary, especially of visitors at this hour of night," said the Professor. "Your name is Remy, correct?" He quickly sobered and nodded. "Scott will show you to the garage and take you back to your car. Then perhaps you could come back here for a few minutes?"

"Sure, _homme_. I wouldn't want to be rude," he said.

Scott and Remy headed down the hall and, once they were around the corner, Logan stepped up next to the Professor. He looked down at him, frowning.

"You aren't going to invite him to stay here…" he said, asking without making it a question.

"We help all mutants, Logan, even the ones you don't like," said the Professor good-naturedly. "He doesn't have control over his powers and if he accidentally blows up something bigger than a telephone, he could be dangerous. We can teach him to control powers. After all, this is a school, even if everyone is leaving it temporarily."

"And why are you staying, Chuck?" Logan asked.

"Because someone must protect the lower levels. If the military were to get a hold of the jet… well, the technology is still a little advanced for the world."

"Yeah and we've already seen what happens when people get hold of Cerebro…"

"Yes, that too. That and I spent a lot of money to have this school built, I can't just leave it to be destroyed now, can I?" said the Professor.

He raised his brows. "Right." 

--

The car was empty; there was nothing in the glove compartment, nothing in the trunk and nothing under the seats.

And there was no Gambit either. That bastard had led him halfway around the world, from New Orleans to France to New York, and now even when he had his car he didn't have _him_! Gambit was not making this easy on him, but he had made his job _a little_ easier by getting into that little scuffle at the illegal casino-restaurant. 

He looked at the dirt around the car. There were footsteps that led further down the road, but he couldn't see exactly how far in the dim moonlight. If Gambit knew he was following him then he couldn't go after him on foot, that was a good way to end up dead or lose his wallet to that thief. He hoped it was only paranoia making him think that Gambit was waiting behind a tree on a deserted road just for him. Gambit's car had probably broken down and he had walked away to look for a call box or a quick stop. Was that boy too stupid to carry a cell phone? Well, he didn't have one either.

He went back to his car and opened the door, then paused. The damned thief would go back to his pretty red corvette sometime, wouldn't he? So he pulled out his pocketknife and knelt down at the door, happily switched open the blade and hurried to do what he wanted to do. 

__

Special Delivery for Monsieur Gambit_ from the Assassin's Guild. Singing telegram from Tophat: I want to kill you,_ his mind's voice tittered. 

--

There was a few nice cars in the garage, _very_ nice ones that he would have liked to hotwire and take a ride in… permanently. Remy followed Scott to the other corner where there were a few red canisters that reeked of gasoline, next to a table that had a few various tools spread out on it and a pair of sunglasses. The glasses looked identical to the ones pretty-boy had on and, since he was in need of a new pair, he nimbly plucked them from the table and slid them into his pocket. Scott picked up one of the canisters and handed it to him.

"_Merci_," he said.

"C'mon, I'll give you a lift back to your car," said Scott.

"Ah, _merci_ again. It be jus' down de road. Not far," said Remy as he opened the door of the Mazda and slipped in.

Scott, who had had the car towed back to the mansion and replaced the ignition (which had had a strange hole in it), started the car and pulled out. A couple minutes later they were pulling up along the side of the road behind Remy's car. He got out and walked over to the driver's side, Scott waiting for him. He stopped when he saw the side of his vehicle.

__

Tophat was here.

And he had completely ruined the paint job of his convertible! _Great, jus' great,_ Remy thought. Tophat wanted it back, but he had stolen it fair. Still, this meant he was being followed – automatically his eyes shifted back and forth and then he casually looked over his shoulder – which meant that he would have to leave soon if he liked to live, and he did.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin', someone jus' didn't like _mon_ car, is all," he said as he unscrewed the lid of the container and poured the gas into the tank.

"To-phat was here?" Scott read, confused.

"I t'ink it say Top-hat, _mon ami_," Remy chuckled.

"Oh. Right."

"Lead da way back," he said as he hopped into the driver's seat, already planning to speed by when Scott turned into the driveway. He no longer had time to waste.

"Heh. Hey, just to give you some warning, I think the Professor wants to ask you to stick around. Help you learn to control your powers."

"You mean stay at dat place?" Remy asked, slightly amused. He chose to let the unintentional insult roll off – he could control his powers just fine when there weren't uncivilized, hairy men growling at him.

"Actually, we're taking a, uh, vacation up in Boston for a couple weeks. You could come with us for a few days, see how you like it. See if the Professor can help you," Scott shrugged.

"Right, Remy t'ink about it, okay?"

And suddenly Remy had a solution that sounded much better than just taking off in his car, ditching it and borrowing another one. He had the chance for a free trip to Boston, surrounded by people – and not just any people, but mutants with powers and abilities. Tophat was probably somewhere close by, watching him now, waiting for the chance to get him alone. Even if that silly assassin followed him all the way to Boston, he couldn't come close to killing him with so many people, especially _mutant_ people, around. Sounded perfect.

--

Rogue rolled over in bed and tugged at her hair, wanting to groan, scream, _something_! Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to make her thoughts stop their torrent, but they kept assailing her and wouldn't let her go to sleep. There were voices that weren't hers, thinking things that she normally never would, which had her on the edge of hysterics. There were memories of places and people that she didn't remember visiting or meeting. She wasn't sure that she even knew which memories belonged to her and which ones belonged to the people she had touched with her accursed skin. All these people, all these voices… they were incessant in whatever they had to think.

Finally she rolled out of bed, wiped her eyes and crept down to the kitchen slowly so as not to make any noise and wake anyone. When she got there, though, she found several others already there, sitting on the counter sipping sodas or whispering at the table. They were all still in their pajamas.

"Looks like we got another one that couldn't sleep," said Kitty Pryde, a tall girl with short-cropped blonde hair. 

Rogue put on her best I-just-woke-up face and asked groggily, "Ugh, what time is it?"

"Almost two-fifteen," Kitty answered. She held out a package of cheese to her. "Want some?"

"No thanks," she said, feigning a yawn.

Rogue wished Bobby was there, but he wasn't, and suddenly she didn't want to be in the room any more. She poured herself a glass of water, so that it wouldn't look like she had come down for nothing, took a sip even though she wasn't thirsty, and decided she needed to take a walk. So she padded out and tried to ignore the ceaseless thoughts than ran through her head, but that only made them grow louder and incoherent. As she walked down the corridor, she started to imagine that she was being followed by uniformed men, all armed with guns, intending to kill her. But, when she turned around, there was only an empty hallway. She took another sip of her water.

Logan and the Professor were at the entrance and she turned to head back before either one of them noticed she was there, but Logan had already caught her scent.

"Hey, kid," he greeted.

"Hey," she said quietly, stepping our from behind the corner.

"Why ain't you in bed?" he asked.

"Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Waiting on some bozo," he growled.

"Huh?"

The door opened the then, Scott and another man coming in. Rogue eyed the stranger curiously, somewhat started – yet captivated – by his eyes.

"Ah, nice of you to come back," said the Professor.

"_Oui_," said Remy, who then turned to Rogue and smiled charmingly. "'Ello, _mademoiselle_."

She would have been content just to stare at his lips and listen to him talk, but when he reached for her ungloved hand, she instinctively jerked away. Logan put a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Don't touch her," he said threateningly.

"All I want to do is introduce myself to de _joli fille_," he said and bowed instead. "De name is Remy."

"Uh, Rogue."

He raised his brows. "Dat your real-" he began, but was cut off when Logan put himself between them.

"Why not go on back to bed, Rogue? Gonna be a busy day tomorrow," he said and, when he saw her trying to inconspicuously look around him, added, "C'mon, I'll take ya."

"'Evenin', _cher_," Remy called.

"G'night," she said without looking back.

"Well then, shall we talk now?" the Professor inquired politely.

"Sure, _homme_… just don' be doin' none of dat mind readin', alright?"

--

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Author's Note – Does this chapter seem slow to anyone? It did to me at first.

Well, for those of you who are noticing, *ahem*, slight changes in certain characters from the way they were portrayed in the movie… I have several different influences that's making me tweak their personalities just slightly. The two main people to receive noticeable "tweaks" are Wolverine and Nightcrawler. Why? Because I rented the 'Legend of Wolverine' tape, which has a few of the original series on it that I love so much. And, I have also taken a liking to X-Men Evolution, even though it's a cheap ripoff/cross of the original series and the movies. *shrugs* 

Just be glad I'm not influenced by the Evolution Pyro… or he would pick up this really neat Australian accent and call ya a "mate", mate. ^_^ Though, I quite like the accent in the show. *is quite nuts*

Gambit has influence from the original series, a few snippets from comics that I've seen and Freeverse (because I've recently read a couple of her fics). Evo Gambit sucks. Period. James Bradford has been cast to play Gambit in the 3rd movie, and let me tell you, he is a fiiine pick. Jared Leto would have also been a good pick. Yum.

Sentinal/Girik/Trask inspiration from original series. Yay. ^_^

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Thank You's To – Rew (that sounds spiffy – Rew Rew!), cynical, Regus12, Steven (a roomful of mutants means to me that they don't want to be killed; a blue, fanged, demon-like creature trying to impale me with a knife means to me that someone wanted to kill me, and if he just waves at me I'm gonna think he's plotting something horrendously evil), Fei, and Eclavadra Abier for all your lovely reviews. I do welcome criticism, if anyone can find anything wrong. ^_^

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Planned Update – Unknown. I got sidetracked from my main story, which is Another Life (a DBZ fic), and now I must get back to that. Don't worry, I'll keep working on this. Or, at the very least, putting in random, stupidity-filled filler chapters to let people know I'm alive. I'll estimate **6/20 **for an update…?

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Translations – 

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oui – Yes/Yeah

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monsieur – Mister/Sir

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homme – Man

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merci – Thank You/Thanks

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mon – My

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cher – Dear (In the comics, Gambit refers to Rogue as _cher_, and most girls as _petite_)

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joli fille – Pretty girl


End file.
